


Bring Color To My Skies

by Captainohmycaptain



Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter/Funhaus RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Grand Theft Auto Setting, Angst, FAHC, Fake AH Crew, M/M, Sad sad sad, Suicide
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-01-09
Updated: 2016-06-11
Packaged: 2018-05-12 17:54:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 4
Words: 3,638
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5675185
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Captainohmycaptain/pseuds/Captainohmycaptain
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Gavin was dying, he knew that. He’d done everything perfect, performed Geoff’s instructions to the exact detail. It was a simple hit, something that didn’t require Ryan’s intense prowess or Ray’s honed skills. Any of them could have done the job, but Gavin had volunteered, figuring it’d be an easy job. And it had been, up until the guy had nicked an artery in Gavin’s neck in a final panicked attempt at survival.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So I had the idea for this late one night and couldn't sleep until I'd started into the first chapter. I'm sorry for this. But there might be a spooky sequel that I have an idea for once the initial sadness is dealt with. 
> 
>  
> 
> WARNING: There is a suicide in this fic and death and I don't want to spoil the story but I feel the warning is very necessary.

Gavin was dying, he knew that. He’d done everything perfect, performed Geoff’s instructions to the exact detail. It was a simple hit, something that didn’t require Ryan’s intense prowess or Ray’s honed skills. Any of them could have done the job, but Gavin had volunteered, figuring it’d be an easy job. And it had been, up until the guy had nicked an artery in Gavin’s neck in a final panicked attempt at survival.

The wound had bled sluggishly at first, and for a while, Gavin had thought it a harmless scrape. He’d cleaned up, occasionally pressing his sleeve over his neck to sop up some excess blood as he wrapped the man up in a black tarp and sent a short text to Jeremy, letting him know that the deed was done and that the body was ready to be picked up and disposed of. With that he headed off home, ready to climb into bed with his lovely Ryan, and sleep the rest of the night away.

He had taken his bike to the kill-sight and on his ride across town to his and Ryan’s apartment, his vision started swimming. Well, less swimming and more Olympic diving into spots and blurs. His neck was numb and when he reached up to touch the wound, he realized it was… much worse than he’d previously thought. The blood was pouring thick now, his shirt coated through the front and sticking nastily to his chest, the clotting making it near black under the street lamp he’d had to stop under.

So, he was dying. Not exactly how he’d ever thought he would go. He’d always imagined his death to be something grandiose and awe-inspiring, like saving the lives of his crew in a fiery act of bravery, or taking out an army of police in an explosion that had no choice but to swallow him as well. He didn’t think a low-level gang leader would slit his throat in a lucky swipe and leave Gavin bleeding out under a dingy streetlight. No, there was no fucking _way_ he was dying here, miles away from any of his loved ones.

He took a moment to breathe, hating that every time he exhaled, he could feel another hot wave of blood run down his chest. He would make it home if he died trying, and considering his condition, that was seeming more and more likely. He settled himself back over the seat of his bike and continued down the road at a much slower pace, trying to keep his breathing even so he didn’t have to stop again.

It took much longer than he would’ve liked, his vision already starting to go black at the edges, but he made it home, and he was grateful at least for that. He didn’t bother parking the bike, just hobbled off it and hurried as best he could up the stairs to their apartment door, trailing blood behind him that glinted under the fluorescent lights of the hallway. He fumbled with the key for too long and cursed his shaking hands, but eventually it slipped in and he was able to turn the lock back and stumble inside.

Gavin could barely feel his body now and his eyes hurt to keep open, but he’d be damned if he made it this far and quit now. He would see Ryan. He would die with Ryan in his eyes. Of that, he would make sure. His steps were too slow across their carpet floor and he had to pause every few breaths to prop himself up on anything around him. He sent a silent cry to whatever Gods he could think of when he reached their bedroom door.

The handle turned with a small click, and Gavin prayed to them again that he wouldn’t wake Ryan. He stumbled over to his side of the bed and collapsed onto it, gasping as a fresh surge of blood ran down his neck and into the pillows below him. He could barely see now. He could barely breathe. But dear, did Ryan look lovely in the moonlight that came through their curtains. The pale light made the older man look unnaturally beautiful, his already pale skin seeming snow white as the shadows clung to his cheekbones and hair, turning the man into an artful black and white masterpiece.

The brit had the thought to at least leave a note, and used the last of his strength to reach into the nightstand and draw out a notepad and pen. His hands still shook and he was careful to not get any blood on the pad as he wrote,

_Lovely Ry,_

_I hate to do this to you, but I refused to die without seeing you again. I love you. I’m sorry._

_Gav_

He barely had the energy to set the note back on the table before he fell back into the pillows, turning his head so he could stare at his love. This was it, he was dying. He was okay with this, with not going out in a fiery ball, or falling to his death because of a faulty parachute. He was okay with this quiet death. He looked at his love, his Ryan, his Vagabond and was alright. It felt like falling asleep as he reached his hand out and clasped Ryan’s, the mercenary snuffling in his sleep, making Gavin chuckle weakly. He could still feel blood leaking from him, but his body was numb now. He felt his breaths slow, his eyes getting heavier with each passing second, and Gavin was ready to let go. He looked one last time a the man beside him and let out his last breath, his body stilling completely, his hand going loose around Ryan’s.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the sadness and medical inaccuracies!
> 
> WARNING for suicide in this chapter.

It was hours later that Ryan woke up. He woke slowly, his mind clouded with sleep. He blinked up at the ceiling, stretching his arms out above him, taking great satisfaction in the small pops his bones made, emitting a deep groan that rumbled his chest.

He loved morning like this, when he could take his time getting up.

Everything seemed absolutely perfect until he spotted the dried blood on his arm. How had that gotten there? He hadn’t had a job with the crew in days and Gavin had only had a small job last night.

It was with that thought that Ryan finally turned to look at the other side of the bed.

None of it registered at first. Not the blood, not the stillness, not the cold translucent flesh coated in red. All he saw was Gavin. All he could think was Gavin. Gavin. Gavin was dead. It hit him hard. The blood was soaked into their bed, the once stark white pillows stained dark along with the sheets below them.

Gavin was- Gavin’s _body_ was still, in a way he never was. Even in sleep the boy moved, squirming about as he dreamed. Now, there was no movement. No rise and fall to his chest. No small twitches to his fingers. His skin too, paler than he’d ever seen it, Gavin’s natural tan having abandoned him in death. His flesh was sunken in, the beginnings of decay setting in quickly in their warm home, in their bed.

Ryan threw up over the side of the bed. He was sobbing. His chest ached and he could feel his heart _breaking_.

It was a pain he had never felt before in his life. He remembered a time back in Georgia, on his parents’ farm, when he’d been kicked in the chest by a horse, how his ribs had ached and his heart felt like it had stopped. At the time, he’d thought he would never feel a worse pain than that.

This time, nothing had even hit him, and yet he dry-heaved from the pain, his whole body seizing up. He could barely lift his head to look at Gavin again. To look at his body again. He didn’t want to look. But he couldn’t help it.

His eyes burned as he refused to close them, taking in everything wrong with what he was seeing. Gavin’s neck had been slit, about half way around, but not deep. It must have taken Gavin hours to bleed out with a cut like that, with no way of sewing it or patching it.

The note on night stand caught his eye then and Ryan reached out, flinching as he hovered over the body below him to grab the note. His tears blurred his vision as he read and he gently set the note back down and settled back onto his side of the bed, the side that remained white. For now at least.

Gavin had known he was dying. Had known for a while probably, most likely the entire way home from the job. Ryan wanted to hate him for making him wake up to this. But he couldn’t. Gavin had wanted to die looking at Ryan.

He couldn’t hate Gavin for that. He could never hate him. He could never live without him. He knew that. They had said those words to each other before, at the time almost jokingly, neither of them ever thinking they would have to. But now this? Now Gavin was gone and Ryan was alone again. He couldn’t be alone, he couldn’t let go of Gavin. He could never be without Gavin.

Ryan blinked slowly, realizing what he was thinking about. But he wasn’t able to think of a reason not to do what he was planning. Who would miss him? The crew, but they had lost others before, they could handle losing him. He knew that dealing with not only Gavin’s death, but his as well would be hard, but they were strong.

Jack would be able to keep them upright, keep them moving forward. Michael would be wrecked over Gavin, having lost his best friend, his boi. Geoff would have lost his son. Even Ray would lose his cool indifference, having been close to Ryan in their silent, odd way and to Gavin, in their loud, silly way.

But Ryan had never met stronger people. And this was a part of the life they chose to live. People died. Friends died. Family died. Ryan’s mind was made up. He breathed slowly, the same way Ray did before he shot, the way that calmed Ryan down and let him clear his mind. Which he needed to do.

He shoved all the thoughts from his mind, everything that wasn’t Gavin and how he could never live without him. He was glad he kept a handgun in the nightstand on his side of the bed. He wasn’t sure that he’d be able to walk, if he’d had to leave the bed. The gun felt heavier in his hand than it ever had before. His chest still ached.

He looked at Gavin again.

At Gavin’s empty corpse, the pale eyes staring blankly out of his skull. Ryan breathed again. He shifted in the bed, slipping his legs back under the covers and laying down, inching closer to the body next to him. His lifted the gun, placing the barrel on his temple.

He was glad his hand wasn’t shaking anymore. He could do this. He’d never believed in any God, but now, he sent a prayer that he would be would be with Gavin somewhere after this. Another breath and Ryan stared into Gavin’s blank eyes.

He exhaled and pulled the trigger.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Im so sorry oh my god.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More sadness !!

Geoff was starting to get worried. Gavin was supposed to text him once he got back from the job. But he’d texted Jeremy that the job had been finished about three hours ago. 

The newest crew member and Matt had headed out to dispose of the body and evidence without question, and without a second text from Gavin.  
When they made it back to the penthouse before Geoff received a text from Gav, an almost panic had begun to set in. Gavin always checked in with him when he made it back safe. There was always the chance that he had forgotten just this once, or that he had gotten home and realized his phone was dead and was charging it. 

But even Michael seemed worried now and Jack had started chewing her bottom lip, an old habit she only showed when stressed. It’d been hours past when he expected his call from Gavin, and he couldn’t take worrying anymore. 

With just a grunt, he spurred the rest of the crew into action. Michael jolted up from his place at the bar, Jack stood with controlled grace from the couch, and Ray snapped his DS shut with just a bit too much force. They followed Geoff out the penthouse door and into the elevator.

“If we walk in on him and Ryan fucking again, I might actually stab one of them.” Michael grumbled, pulling his hood up and leaning against the paneled wall. The rest of them huffed laughs, hoping that this situation turned out to be something so mundane. It had happened a few times before, that after a heist, or when Ryan returned from an overseas hit, the two secluded themselves for days, ignoring jobs and calls and even once a very annoyed Michael banging on their door, screaming for them to pull out of each other long enough to help him with a hit. 

Geoff wished he could assume that that was what this was. He hoped to God that it was something as dumb as that, but he’d been doing this a very long time, and he knew that hope was often futile. 

Jack drove them through the city slowly, obeying every traffic law and light. All that did was make everyone in the car even more tense. If Jack was driving rationally, then she was too worried to bother with her usual theatrics. 

The first thing they saw when they pulled up was Gavin’s purple bike, tipped over, resting against the curb in front of the apartment. Then there was the blood. 

A trail of it led to the front door of the building and they followed silently, guns drawn and fear mounting. Had the hit gone wrong? But Gavin had said the job was done, Jeremy and Matt had burned the body and confirmed the kill. Geoff refused to let his hands start shaking. 

Just inside the building, the blood continued up the stairs, and they followed it up and then down the hallway at Ryan and Gavin’s floor. The carpeted hallway was stained the whole way to their door and Geoff noticed several spots where it looked like whoever had been bleeding, he was still praying it wasn’t Gavin, had to stop and lean on the wall for support, leaving red handprints in his wake. 

The door to their apartment was ajar and Geoff nudged it open further with the barrel of his gun, taking in the blood that still trailed, letting them know exactly where to go. Their bedroom door, unlike the front was shut and Geoff motioned wordlessly for the others to spread through the living room and help him cover the door. He stepped quietly towards it and gave Jack a small nod before he slowly twisted the knob and eased the door open just enough for him to see inside. 

His gun fell from his hand. He slammed the door shut again and fell backwards, stumbling away from it as he let out a sob, his throat tight. Jack helped settle him on the couch and he couldn’t breathe, he couldn’t think. 

“Is it bad?” Was all she asked. Geoff nodded, watching as Michael slid down the wall to stare at his hands. Ray was shaking where he stood, shifting his weight back and forth rapidly. Jack stood from her crouch in front of Geoff and went to the door now. Her gun was put away and she picked Geoff’s up off the floor, setting it on the coffee table. Back at the door, she took a deep breath and opened it, throwing it wide. 

They could all see the aftermath of whatever had happened. Gavin’s body was pale, lifeless, laid out on the side of the bed that was dark with old blood. Ryan though…his body still had color and blood still oozed across the pillows under his head. Jack let out a breath that sounded like it hurt and stepped forward into the room, trying to figure out what had happened. She shut out that these were her friends, the she had just shared a laugh with Gavin yesterday, that her and Ryan had made plans to see a movie together that night. She ignored the sobs coming from the living room. 

The note was the first thing she really registered and as she read, the whole thing seemed to fall into place. Gavin had been wounded, a shallow slice across his throat, and bleeding out, had somehow managed to make it back home to see Ryan. Jack rounded to the other side of the bed, grimacing at the matter along with the blood on his side. Ryan must have woken up and found Gavin dead. He’d always been rash when it came to the Brit. 

Jack reached out and touched his face, feeling warmth under her fingers. She checked his gun and found smoke still curling gently around the barrel tip. He’d shot himself not half an hour before they arrived. 

She turned and exited the room, finally shutting the door behind her. She watched Michael sob in Geoff’s arms for a moment, saw Ray sitting with a blank face beside the two, silently letting tears slip down his face, but never making a move to wipe them away. 

“From what I can tell…,” Jack saw her friends flinch at her words, “Gavin knew he was bleeding out and he wanted to see Ryan again. He, uh, he wrote Ry a note. Told him he loved him,” Geoff had to hide his face in Michael’s shoulder, trying desperately to quiet his cries, “And I guess, when Ryan woke up he… He killed himself,” Jack had wanted to give them a moment before she told them what else she’d discerned but once she’d started explaining she couldn’t stop the words from pouring out, “Ryan’s body is still warm and his gun was smoking. He must have only done it about twenty minutes ago.” 

Ray broke, his sob shaking through his whole body, his face twisting into pain as Michael turned from Geoff for a moment to draw the younger into their embrace.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally updating this! I know it took an ungodly amount of time but I'm getting back into writing after a long lull and I'm very excited to get back into my unfinished works.

Burnie arrived within minutes of Geoff’s call. He was quiet and solemn but hugged Geoff with fierce emotion.

Jeremy and Matt showed up next, Jeremy looking like he was barely able to walk. He leaned on Matt’s side in the living room, silently watching people mill about.

The crew had discussed it as well as they could on the couch outside the bedroom door that lead to two of their friend’s dead bodies, and they refused to do this the wrong way. Ryan and Gavin deserved better than some unmarked dessert grave, or even better than just being shipped back to their families, like they usually did with crew members.

Their police contact, Joel, a crooked cop that held childhood ties with Burnie, the undeniable Los Santos leader, showed up only a few moments after everyone else, with a coroners van trailing after his car. The officer was also quiet and no one from the right side of the law said anything to them, which they were thankful for. Joel asked them what happened and wrote it down slowly in his notebook. He took his time in everything that he did, even speaking slower than normal, trying to make it as easy as possible for the crew that all of the city knew was more of a family. Joel explained to them he’s going to do all he can, that he’s going to report the situation to the Captain Hullum when he got back to the station, to keep the cops away from them for a while. So they can grieve in peace, he says.

The coroners do their jobs quickly, quietly, and efficiently. The room is silent except for a small sound from Jeremy in the corner, still hiding against Matt, when they roll the gurneys back out of the bedroom, the bodies covered with black blankets. They are also thankful for that. Geoff wasn’t sure that he could stomach seeing it again, and he knows that Michael couldn’t, that Jeremy would have a complete breakdown if he saw it at all.

They were his boys and he wanted to protect them. The bodies under those blankets had been two of his boys, his friends. He couldn’t help but feel guilty. He’d proposed the job that had gotten Gavin killed. The same job that had led to Ryan shooting himself- and fuck, Geoff couldn’t think about that right now. Ryan had always been fucked up. They all knew it, they all accepted it.

When he’d first joined the crew there were times when days would go by without them seeing even a glimpse of the masked man. But slowly the real Ryan had come out. He was still fucked up, burdened with something no amount of their love could take away from him. But he was happier. He took the mask off. He smiled and laughed at their dumb jokes.

When Gavin and Ryan got together, it was like they’d announced a new age of their crew life. Things got so much better, their missions went flawlessly, and failure during a heist became a thing of the past. They really became a family during that time.

And now this- their family threatening to fall apart.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments are always appreciated and kudos too! Thanks for reading.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading, new chapter to come soon! Reviews are appreciated!


End file.
